


シリウス :: Sirius

by harinezumi_kun



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Songfic, pre-story character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-04
Updated: 2010-07-04
Packaged: 2017-11-05 08:35:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/404419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harinezumi_kun/pseuds/harinezumi_kun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just one shining voice, high in the sky, calling my name.</p>
            </blockquote>





	シリウス :: Sirius

**Author's Note:**

> i don't want to say too much here, because this was written to be sort of a slow reveal, but if you don't want to read something really depressing, don't read this ;p also, as evidenced by the title, this was inspired by arashi's song "sirius".

I never used to worry much about things like where my cellphone was, or if I had any money in my wallet. But I have to, now. Because even after five years, some nights I just can’t stand the empty apartment and I have to catch a train, or a cab, or a bus, and then I just ride and ride and ride until I’m lost.

Until I’m far enough away from the city to see the stars.

After the first few times when no one could find me, or contact me, I got a pretty severe talking to. Jun was the most worried, as usual. He thinks I’m unstable. Maybe I am. But I promised to always have my phone with me, and to make sure I had enough money to get home again. Sometimes, after he had called to find out where I’d ended up, he would come and pick me up. On the way home, he’d always try and talk me out of my little trips. He said I was just running away, and that it wouldn’t help anything, wouldn’t change anything. But I can’t see the stars in Tokyo.

He doesn’t really call anymore.

Tonight I’m in some little seaside town that doesn’t seem to have more than two dozen houses, and maybe one convenience store. This was the last stop on the bus route, and the bus I just got off of was the last bus of the night. But that’s okay. It’s nice and quiet here, and I can smell the ocean. 

Sorry, I know you hate the ocean, but it makes me feel a little better.

_Satoshi._

I know, I know. I’m coming.

I’m facing the last few lights burning in small, homey windows, then I turn around and start down the gently sloping hill behind me. The grass is high and stiff, and there’s sand under my feet. Soon I’m on the beach proper. The ground levels out, I slow down, enjoying the slide of sand beneath my boots. But it’s dark. Why is it so dark?

Looking up, I finally notice the clouds. Oh. No stars tonight. I’ll wait, then. It’s a little cold, but I don’t really feel it.

It’s so quiet, here. Just the sounds of the wind and the water. For a while, I’m just empty, just another part of the landscape, and it’s like the wind is blowing through me instead of around me. Maybe it’ll stay that way, maybe the hurting won’t come back this time, finally.

But no. There it is. That slow, suffocating ache that starts in my gut and works its way up through my lungs and into my throat, choking me.

It still hurts. After five years, it hurts as much as the phone call, as much as “in a really bad crash”, as much as “he didn’t make it”. 

And then seeing his small, fragile body, pale and unmoving. Knowing in a flash of terrible understanding that he would never sing again, never dance again, I’d never hear his laugh or see him smile. I would never hold his hand or feel his head on my shoulder. Never again.

I notice two things at once—that there are tears sliding in a steady stream down my face, and that it has started to snow. It should be rain, I think inanely, but it’s too cold for rain. 

_Satoshi._

Are you crying, too?

I’m shaking now, so hard it feels like I might fall apart, and I pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them. 

It was supposed to get better, easier, wasn’t it? Maybe it was at the funeral, maybe it was later, but sometime, somebody who was trying to comfort me said “Time heals all wounds”. So I waited. I waited and waited, but it never got better, it never got easier to pass that spot in the park where he used to sing and never see him there. I never stopped waiting to hear him call my name from across the room, or for his number to show up on my missed call list.

But maybe it’s never gone away because I _want_ this. I want the hurt and the sadness and the pain because it means he was real. Maybe I want it because it’s all I deserve. Because I never told him. I never told him that I loved him. And now I never will.

“I’m sorry,” I say aloud. My words escape, broken and unintelligible, in a foggy white cloud that melts away slowly in the cold air. “I’m so sorry.”

I wish I could go back, I wish I could run fast enough to chase myself back through all the years, all the lost time, and do things differently. I knew that he loved me, I could tell. I could see it in the way he was always touching me, and the way his eyes would soften, just a little bit, around the edges when he was looking at me. Why didn’t I ever tell him? If I could go back, I would. Please, please, let me go back and I’ll do everything right, I’ll tell him everyday that I love him, I’ll never leave him, ever, I swear.

I’m not aware of time passing. The waves crash and advance, almost lapping against my toes, and then they retreat again, and somewhere in the cold, cloudy night, I fall asleep. I dream of him. Always.

When I wake up, it’s still dark, but there’s a silvery cast to the sand and the water. I rub the salt and grit out of my eyes and look up. The clouds are gone, except for a low, tattered band along the horizon. And the sky is full of stars.

I have a memory—old and faded, from my childhood maybe—of someone telling me that when someone you love dies, they go up to heaven and become a star. On nights like this, when I swear I can hear you calling my name, I have to find a place where I can see the stars. I’m sure you’re up there. Right there, that bright star right in the middle of the sky. There you are.

“Nino.” I manage a smile. “Wait for me, okay?”

It won’t be long now. It’s getting so hard to hold on to this body, without you.

“Can someone die from a broken heart, Nino? I think I’ll be with you soon.”

Ah, you’re mad now. You don’t like me talking like this. You want me to live and be happy. I tried, I really did. I can’t do it without you.

_Satoshi, please._

“Just wait for me, okay?”

The horizon over the water is starting to pale to a soft, dove gray. Stars are winking out, one by one.

“We’ll be together, and I’ll never leave you again. Okay? Just wait for me.”

The sunrise brings back all the living sounds of the daylight—birds and cars and bicycle bells—and it’s getting harder to hear your voice. The colors on the horizon are bleeding out across the sky in watercolor washes, but before your star disappears, I hear a whisper, or maybe it’s just the wind through the grass.

_Always._


End file.
